Annoyance
by Statyck
Summary: A crazy huntress and a former death knight. Both take odd jobs around Quel'Thalas, and neither one can stand the other. (OCs)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey. New to WOW. Really like it. So I wrote a fic featuring a pair of OCs (as that seems to be an okay thing in this fandom). Hope you like it. R &R?**

 **-Statyck**

 **/*\**

Anarkky Sunbell did not like spiders. She never had and she never would, so when the chef in the Ghostlands requested she bring back crunchy spider legs for his culinary experiments, she almost gagged. She managed to save face of course, it would have been terrible manners to let her distaste show, but now she was faced with a simultaneously revolting and amusing task.

She had some arachnids to murder.

/*\

Wyn Sorrowsong was only in the Ghostlands in hope of making a few silver. After the fall of the Lich King, there wasn't much else he could do. He had finally broken free of the Lich's command, but the common people abhorred him and rightfully so. He didn't remember every single thing that the Lich King made him do, but he could recall enough.

No one this far north knew his face, and with the assistance of a small amount of makeup he could easily pass for a living elf. Now somewhat free, he was little more than a simple warrior.

For the time being, he was able to get a job freeing an overtaken town from Quel'dorei spirits. It wouldn't take him long, a few hours at most, but it would suffice. He'd make enough to pay for a small meal. He retreated into the forest of dark trees and glowing mushrooms and jogged down the road to his destination.

/*\

The young woman notched her arrow and took aim. She didn't usually use a bow – she had obtained other weaponry since her time in school – but she was entirely unwilling to get any closer to that eight-legged _thing_ skittering around on those rocks. For a moment she felt a little guilty, the poor beast was only minding its own business, but it quickly vanished when the spider took notice of her pet.

The utter monstrosity had the gall to _attack_ her gorgeous cat. So she quickly shot a well-aimed arrow into its mandibles. It spasmed and dramatically fell on its back, legs twitching just a few times more before it stopped moving altogether. Reluctantly Anarkky took a knife from her belt and inspected her kill. She took hold of one of the legs and hacked it off.

Why had she taken this job?

Well, that was easy. There were spiders close enough to two more tasks she'd promised to undertake. The people of Tranquillien were kind enough, but they were a little lazy. Instead of helping retake the land themselves, they paid those just leaving Eversong to do it for them.

So stowing the final leg into her bag, she sighed in relief. There were several ghosts to her right, and zombified murlocs to her left. Both were targets, and ironically enough, both were far better battle choices than a giant goddamned spider. Considering her options, Anarkky decided to go right first. Several of those ghosts were giving her some very unflattering looks.

/*\

Wyn wasn't especially worried about the ghosts or the wraiths. It only took one hit from his enormous metal mallet to make them drop dead, and even if they got a jab in it didn't really do anything. No it wasn't the undead spirits that irked him.

He didn't know who she was or why she was here, but the huntress was absolutely mad. She alternated between a bow and shortsword, and her pet lynx trailed behind her carefully, as if it knew it might get hit if it strayed too far ahead.

"Really?" She yelled at a hissing wraith. "You really think glaring at me is going to do anything? Oh I'm so scared." She lilted before she shot it in the face. She looted the transparent corpse and moved on to the next unfortunate spirit.

She was extremely angry, and he wasn't quite sure why.

Normally, Wyn might have been inclined to ignore her. What others did wasn't usually his concern. That being said, her aim was erratic. After nearly getting hit by yet another arrow he lost the last of his patience. Enough was enough. He ducked behind the buildings, throwing aside spirits, and crept up behind her. He had to admit it to himself, he was impressed. She left a trail of corpses behind her, not one undead finger moving. She was ruthless.

But it didn't change the fact that she was far too reckless and would probably kill someone in the near future. So with the cat ignoring him and her back unprotected he grabbed the bottom of her cloak and pulled harshly, making her arrow fly into the air rather than into an enemy, and she fell onto her back looking up at him.

"What do you think you're doing?!" She snarled. "I almost had him!"

"I think you've had enough." The death knight replied. "Look around. You've decimated half the village." She got back to her feet and glared at him, notching another arrow.

"I will have you know, I was sent to clear this place out." She answered. "Not that I see why it's any of your business." He raised an eyebrow.

"It's my business because you've almost hit me with one of these," he snatched the arrow from her hand and pointed it at her, "three times now. If you're going to go on a killing spree then keep an eye out for those of us who are actually alive." He threw the arrow back. She lowered the arrow and raised an eyebrow.

"Think fast." She said, before lifting the bow and shooting.

/*\

Anarkky was annoyed, and reasonably so in her opinion. The entire time this warrior guy spoke, she could see the wraith in the background, getting closer and closer, and he wasn't even aware. So she listened to him blather on up until the wraith took notice of the two living and charged. _Perfect._ She thought to herself. _Now I can show him just what an asshole he's being._

As the wraith ran up and the soldier continued on, she charged the magic in her hand and let her sharp tongue loose just before she planted the sharp little stick into the wraith's heart.

The man grabbed his weapon, and held his hand up to defend himself even though she very obviously wasn't aiming directly at him. Reflex? The wraith screamed in pain, falling and the warrior whirled staring at the body with wide eyes. She was a little surprised to see he didn't look too pale. That was no fun. Anarkky spoke as she walked past him.

"If I almost hit you," she said, pulling her arrow from the corpse, "then that's why." And without another word, she started to run towards the coast of the peninsula.

She was extremely put out. As much as she didn't like the ghosts she'd been having fun, letting loose. She had even been helping that guy when he almost got run through with a sword on more than one occasion, and he had the audacity to try and sit her down and lecture her? Was he normally so nosy?

She huffed, stopping on top of a rock and letting her fingers take hold of the cats mane. Petting it, reassuring herself that her pet was still there. She sighed and stared down at her bow. There were cracks along the tops, and the string was loosening up. She put it away. It was old. She'd need a new one soon. She traded it out for a sword and set her sights on a stray grimscale, one that had wandered a little too far from the group.

They weren't difficult beasts to battle, but they could do some serious damage together. She planned her route around the beach, and began her onslaught.

/*\

Wyn watched as the huntress dashed away, her dark hair flying, towards the coastline. He hadn't even heard the wraith approach him, and if she was to be believed it seemed this was a recurring thing. He hung his head, hair falling into his face.

Had he gone soft?

Footsteps sounded behind him and he whirled, hammer hitting the target in the abdomen. He huffed. His instincts hadn't dimmed, he'd just been distracted. Distracted by her complete and utter stupidity.

 _I was sent here to clear out the village._

He'd have to ask the arcanist just how often these ghosts showed up.

 **/*\**

 **Thanks for reading! Especially if you made it this far. :3**

 **-Statyck**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello.**

 **-Statyck**

 **/*\**

Night had fallen and the forest was doused in blue light. Little more than the sloshing of the sea could be heard, and Anarkkys' lynx stood low to the ground. Its ears laid flat and a deep growl echoed far too loud for her liking.

"Shh." The woman placated, though she herself was hiding behind a tree and eyeing the camp carefully. A small horde of night elves had set up shop in different parts of the Ghostlands, and she had been sent to raid an entire island plus their ship.

It could have been an extremely easy mission, if it wasn't for the fact that Anarkky had this strange objection to killing other people. She would if she had to, but it wasn't her first instinct. She'd rather sneak around and steal, if it was something she could get away with.

Unfortunately that didn't seem to be a choice. As she darted behind tree after tree, she saw that the plans were very closely guarded. She wouldn't have to slaughter the whole camp but she'd still have to use her weapons. She exchanged her shortsword for her bow, and took aim. An arrow to the brain would be relatively painless, and because a bow was quiet no one else would notice until she had already left.

The first set of plans retrieved she snuck around the camp, and snatched the second set. She'd gotten lucky. The guard had walked away after something had rustled the bushes, a rabbit or a snake probably, and Anarkky quietly snatched the scroll and darted away.

Now all that was left was the ship, and judging by how many people were up there she knew that the vessel would be much harder to infiltrate. She sighed and quietly strung her bow, taking aim at a sentinel – a young-looking girl, she couldn't have been more than a century old – and shot.

The only solace she could take was that she didn't have to kill _everyone_.

/*\

When Wyn caught sight of the huntress again he inwardly moaned. She'd made him look like an idiot, and it wasn't a feeling he especially cared for. He ducked behind the brush, the trees, anything that could hide his inconspicuous form.

His armor was nice, but it wasn't exactly stealthy.

It seemed she was looking for the plans, but interestingly enough she wasn't looting the few soldiers she fell. For a moment he felt annoyed. He'd have looted them, taken the money, but he hadn't been the one who'd killed them. In Blood Elf custom it was bad form to loot a corpse he hadn't killed, and it was one he took seriously. He swore to himself and surveyed the rest of the camp.

At least she'd been considerate. She'd left him plenty of enemies to dispose of.

/*\

Anarkky did her best to make it up to the ship without harming anyone too badly, and she was pleased to find that she'd been successful. Several of the sentinels had been very new, like the first girl she had regrettably killed, but she'd managed to scare them away. One girl got an arrow through the hand, but ultimately no one else got hurt. They'd all run into the bottom of the ship, to get reinforcements no doubt, but she'd be long gone by then.

Pleased with her work, she left the ship and skirted around the coastline of the tiny island. In just a few moments, she'd be able to just dive into the sea and make a beeline for the other shore. If she could make it there, she could get back to Tranquillien and dry off, maybe buy some food. Food sounded good.

Just as she was about to dive into the water, the sound of running footsteps sounded behind her. Had she been spotted? She whirled around, bow in hand, but before she got a chance to defend herself a large mallet slammed into the side of the druids head. As he fell into a puddle of his own blood, the warrior from yesterday stared her straight in the face.

"Now we're even." He said, before resuming his slaughter.

He had killed nearly everyone on the island, and so Anarkky sighed and made her way back to the mainland. It seemed her efforts had been all for nothing.

/*\

Wyn was enjoying himself. By nature, the Blood Elves enjoyed fighting and killing. It reassured him to a degree that this was one of the bases of his society. Even if he'd been transformed into a creature with no free will of his own, he could at least say that he came by the murderous tendencies honestly. It was his culture, his upbringing, it took root in the very blood that ran through his veins.

The desire to kill those who opposed him was normal even before all that happened, and it was a sort of twisted solace that kept him from drowning in guilt. Humans, Worgen, Dwarves, their deaths were like achievements to him. They were the enemies of the Blood Elves, he had every right and above them all he absolutely abhorred the Night Elves.

The Night Elves had been their enemies since the dawn of time. They hated each other, and even if he'd been allowed to remain a normal man this was a type of mission he would have been sent on anyways. Even if he was still himself, warm and alive and commanding very different magics, he would still be a soldier in the war against the Night Elves. This was still something he would be asked to do.

But now, as he indiscriminately murdered every man and woman on the island he found that he was tired. Even if it was in his natural impulse to kill and survive, he felt as though he'd done a lot of it. As he looted corpse after corpse he found himself eager for the moment he could leave.

/*\

"I hate that man." The woman grumbled to herself. _Not that I can even say aloud why._ If anyone ever learned of her reluctance to murder her enemies she would be reported for being an Alliance sympathizer. That was not an accusation she could afford. She would be imprisoned and tortured, and that was not a fate she was willing to suffer for a mere comment.

 _If I see him again, I could kill him._ She thought, throwing another stick into the small fire. _It would be easy. People die all the time out here, people would absolutely believe that the trolls or the Night Elves had done it._ She immediately dismissed the idea and adjusted the enchanted cloth around the flame, so that no one would see the smoke or fire. The Ghostlands were a dangerous place, and even if she could just go to the Undercity and start accepting jobs there it was full of dead people. The inns smelled absolutely terrible, like decaying flesh and smoke. The Forsaken unnerved her.

 _But then, I could also go to Orgrimmar._ The woman leaned back and found her lynx curled up behind her. She let herself relax a little. _Orcs can be intense, but they're better than zombies._

Anarkky let her eyes slide closed and listened carefully. She could get attacked at any moment, by anything. She could have stayed near the town, but she preferred camping. She didn't especially care for being in the company of other people that often.

Finally she put out the fire and climbed into her tent. It was a useful thing, her tent. It was enchanted to be invisible to everyone but her, and so she felt unfailingly safe within its flimsy walls.

/*\

A pair of women spoke to one another as they watched a hulking warrior in black armor attempt to bargain with one of the vendors.

"What's going on?" A small child asked, a rarity in the warzone of the Ghostlands.

"Nothing," one of the women said, "just observing the town."

"Anything interesting?" The little one inquired, peering around the womans leg.

"Just a warrior. Never seen him before, and he didn't come from Eversong."

"No," The other woman – the childs mother – affirmed, "he came from someplace else, but he won't say where." The child nodded solemnly.

"I want to be an adventurer. So many of them are really interesti- wait. What's he doing?" He tilted his head. The man had appeared to start running away from the vendor, but he'd halted midair. Just as the child took notice of this strange defect, he realized it was happening to one or two of the other people as well. They were freezing, and then teleporting a few yards away.

"Ah, that." His mother said. "That's part of why I don't want you becoming an adventurer. That's an illness they all seem to be afflicted with, at one time or another."

"And it doesn't discriminate either," the other woman pitched in, "warlock, mage, hunter, it doesn't seem to matter. They all get it."

"What is it?" The little boy asked.

"I don't know the proper term," she said, "but the common name they give it is 'lag'."

"How do they get it?"

"I don't know, all I do know is that it's almost incurable. They say it's due to bad 'Pee-Sees' and even if they get it fixed, it can still occur." The boy watched a few moments more. Freezing then running, freezing then running. It didn't seem that bad until someone appeared to phase through a boulder.

"I want to be a cook."

/*\

Wyn was frustrated. He'd never liked the Forsaken. Not only did they smell of rot and decay, they had no standards. They ate other people and acted as though the entire world was the utmost inconvenience to them. He found them to be rude and arrogant, and the particular vendor he'd been fighting with was plainly trying to rip off his customers.

He had better luck with an elf vendor, but she didn't have very much food. It was a little more expensive than he might have liked, but at least she'd been nice about it. Scarce resources were understandable. He sighed. He'd had a long day and just needed to rest. That was probably half his problem. He was so exhausted.

Maybe if he could just get some sleep, he'd feel better. So he trekked out into the woods and found a sturdy tree. There were some nasty things in the Ghostlands. Not especially harmful to him, but he wasn't interested in being woken up by an angry spider in the middle of the night. So he found himself a comfy branch, and tried to get some rest.

 **/*\**

 **Like it? If yes, leave a review! If not, still leave a review! I want my writing to get better. :3**

 **-Statyck**


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